


Second Star to the Right

by SunriseinSpace



Series: that place between sleep and awake [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: DEFINITE SPOILERS, DEFINITELY NOT A FIX-IT FIC, M/M, might even be a broke-it-even-worse fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseinSpace/pseuds/SunriseinSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's breaking her heart, though, in the same ways honest grief always does and more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Star to the Right

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS. NOT EVEN KIDDING, IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE, DO NOT READ.
> 
> That said, the title comes from the phrase, "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning," which of course comes from J.M. Barrie's _Peter Pan_.

 

 

 

 

Phil's gone.

Phil's gone.

Phil's gone.

She repeats it to herself again, a reminder to not forget, to remember this one face and this one loss - she's lost too many memories and too many good people and, macabre as it seems, she doesn't want to lose this because losing this knowledge - not knowing what she's lost this time - might actually be what finally breaks her.

_Phil Coulson is dead._

\--

"Natasha. You have to find him," Tony says, eyes bright and half-terrified as he grabs her arm, willingly touches her for the first time since she drove a needle into his neck. That alone makes her stop, makes her turn and actually listen to what he's babbling. "We've lost Coulson already, I'm not sure Steve could take it if we lost Hawkeye, too, I'm not sure I could take it actually and I don't know the guy like I did Phil--"

"What?" she interrupts, honestly confused by Stark. Surprisingly, she has no idea what's going on, mostly due to exhaustion and distraction, but something about Tony's face puts her on point quickly. "Tony, what happened?"

"Steve-- The letter-- Barton--" he gets out, obviously not entirely sure himself, but intuitive enough to realize something's wrong.

" _Shit_ ," she curses, then again in Russian, and takes off down the hallway, red hair flying out behind her as she runs.

\--

She finds him in a ball on his bed, curled around himself so tightly she's afraid of the cramps he might have later. There's a scrap of paper on the floor, in Coulson's familiar handwriting, and she doesn't read it because she knows what it is. It's 'goodbye' and 'I'm sorry' and 'forgive me?' and no matter what it actually says (no matter what any of them ever say), it always hurts more than the actual loss does, the knowledge that this was planned for.

"Oh, my dear," she murmurs, in Russian, because that's the only language she allows herself when voicing honest sentiment. She closes and locks the door, but leaves the lights on bright - this will be painful enough without accidentally confusing him.

He's half-asleep, she notices, as she slides onto the bed next to him, one thigh against the pillow and the other pressed to the curve of his back. Still in his field suit with tear tracks stark on his cheeks, his eyes are bruised red and swollen, mostly shut as he stares at the wall. She'd be a fool to think he's over the worst of it, the crying and the initial emotional breakdown, but he's not as bad off as she'd expected. He's breaking her heart, though, in the same ways honest grief always does and more.

"Shh, you'll be all right," she tells him and he shakes his head, turning his face into the covers as his shoulders shudder. "Hush, you will be, I know, darling," she whispers, curling over to wrap herself around him. "You know it, too. You'll never be the same, you'll never forget and it will always hurt, but you will be all right." It hurts, this honest truth, but it is truth, when empty platitudes would hurt worse.

"God, 'tasha, I miss him," he grits out, voice scraped raw and painful with grief. "I want him _back_."

"I know, darling," she says, leaning her cheek against his head as he tucks his face against the arm she's wrapped around him. She thinks of the notes she's put in her own file, of the slip of paper Hill had silently handed her in passing. And the emptiness where Phil should be, the fact that someone else should be wrapped around Clint right now, aches as she closes her eyes and quietly admits, "I do, too."

\--

_"'I keep thinking about this river somewhere, with the water moving really fast. And these two people in the water, trying to hold onto each other, holding on as hard as they can, but in the end it's just too much. The current's too strong. They've got to let go...' Make him let go, Natasha, but don't let him forget. --Phil"_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from _Never Let Me Go_ , by Kazuo Ishiguro


End file.
